Tender in the Age of Fury - Softcover

Brandon Pitts

Softcover

ISBN 10: 177161174X ISBN 13: 9781771611749

Publisher: Mosaic Press, 2016

Synopsis

This is the second collection of poems by Seattle-based Canadian poet Brandon Pitts. In his new collection, he extends the themes of his initial offering Pressure to Sing (IOWI, 2010) and gives the reader a clearer understanding of the interconnected personal, theological and political themes of his work, suggesting a literary and cultural “key” to its full appreciation. Pitts returns the reader to the Hebrew/Christian/Islamic story of angels and men (and women) that is at the root of the modern consciousness, offering an immanent critique of its latest manifestations.

About this title

About the Author

Brandon Pitts is a prominent figure in the Pacific Northwest poetry scenes, packing houses in Seattle with his dynamic readings.  He was inducted into the prestigious Diaspora Dialogues as an "Emerging Voice" for fiction. He followed this with his novel Puzzle of Murders (2011) and then a poetry collection Pressure to Sing (2012). Tender in the Age of Fury, his second collection of poems, was published by Mosaic Press in 2016 to wide critical praise and is already in its third printing.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Tender In The Age Of Fury

By Brandon Pitts

Mosaic Press

Copyright © 2016 Brandon Pitts
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-77161-174-9

Contents

Foreword, 
Introduction, 
Legba, 
The Prophesy of the Coming Mannish Child, 
Artist's Statement, 
Kennewick Man, 
Delilah Went Cold, 
I., 
II., 
III., 
Ergot in the Rye, 
Aux Arc, 
Pox, 
Volunteers, 
The Doctor of Theology, 
Tecumseh, 
Sherman, 
The Hymnal of the Ghost, 
The Confederate, 
The Prophecy of the Coming Mannish Child, 
I., 
II., 
III., 
Zul Qarnain, 
Kennewick Man Again, 
A Potion for Good Fortune, 
The Apocryphon, 
Artist's Statement, 
The Apocalypse of Weeks, 
Vision of the first, 
Vision of the second, 
Vision of the third, 
Vision of the fourth, 
Vision of the fifth, 
Vision of the sixth, 
Vision of the seventh, 
Rapture, 
A Poem for Aq, 
Nimrod, 
II., 
The Widow's Mites, 
Into the Plash, 
I., 
II., 
III., 
IV., 
V., 
John 2:13, 
Sitting in the Senate, Listening to Council from Caligula's Horse, 
Hammurabi, 
I., 
II., 
YHWE, 
3+3+3=9, 
The Carbon Age — Poems: 2011-2014, 
The Admonition to My Children, 
The Carbon Age, 
For You, 
In My Hour of Death, 
Foreign Campaigns, 
Creature, 
The Labours of Spartacus Baptist, 
The Labours of Spartacus Baptist, 
Labour of the first, 
Labour of the second, 
Labour of the third, 
Labour of the forth, 
Labour of the fifth, 
Labour of the sixth, 
Labour of the seventh, 
Pontius Pilate, 
Thank You, 
Acknowledgements, 
Biography, 
List Of Publications by Brandon Pitts, 
List of Poetry Readings, Literary Festivals, Performed Plays, and Esential Appearances By Brandon Pitts, 

CHAPTER 1

Legba The Prophesy of the Coming Mannish Child

Artist's Statement

Though this section of poetry can be read in a literal sense, it is better understood as a series of allegorical symbols. I have sought to construct verse that symbolises the human movement and habitation on the American Continent. To deepen this symbolism, I have used some of the many facets of the American voice and the demonic side of American folk spirituality. This language, combined with the pulse and meter of a folk spell, creates a poetic grimoire for the American experience as it moves from east to west like a virus while drawing comparisons to the contemporary socio-political environment.

Kennewick Man

Crow
silence

so thick
I can hear heat rise from the desert plane

where the jarring scratch
of the sunbaked beetle
points me north

to sequoia
and snow capped giants

to river's flow

and my time of dying
the dawning of calendar days
until a burning need from the east
seeps through the land

to pull me from the water
so souls with good intentions
can pick at my weary bones


Delilah Went Cold

I.

beware of the Drubby
that wanders the cornfields at night

steals the souls of sleepers
and drives them back to the time

where men ate raw meat
and gnawed on dirt covered roots

tore at women with a brute fang
proof. ... of the love that a man can feel

Jim
why'd you do that evil deal

back in the woods
where only the frogs heard poor Delilah cry

hey Jim
can you tell my why

'fore that devil takes you
casts you back upon the wheel

where Legba presides over the cycle of reason
to purge your ordeal


II.

in the lesson of transformations
where I sat on the wet nurse's lap

she sang songs about the old times
in that far off land

where cracked hands
beat spells upon drums

and how to sell your soul to the Drubby
out on Highway 61

when he taps you on the shoulder
take the deal. ... don't look back

and the grimoire will reveal its secrets
even to those who can't understand

but it was droppin' hail
when I came to the crossroads of my life

down in Beauregard, Mississippi
out on route 49

so I gwon thru the thistle patch
contract in my hand

drew a circle in the cornfield
where they go and see the Drubby man


III.

hey Jim
why ya lay down yer plow?

hey Jim
left yer woman to fend fer the sow

Jimbo
gone to revel in the city swell

but stopped to steal peaches
an' asleep in the hay

they'll find you Jimbo
find you one day

but tonight ... you'll hop a freight train
dream of new lands

where money and women
come to a man

with the strength of dreams
and the mind to foretell

but there'll be no more wishes
from the Drubby's secret well

and this ... was the prophecy
that the angel foretold

a mannish boy would be born
on the eve. ... Delilah .. went cold


Ergot in the Rye

when the fog settles on the field
as the Forth Wind slows
mice will scratch patterns
on church floorboards

and the spirit that silences birds of the tree
will push the sow down ... deep into the sty
on the day that neighbors can no longer plan their means
to the cycles of the moon

but a man can lean on the bible
smoking nightshade from a cob bowl
standing minister over the mandrake
as Solomon had mastery over the jinn

until his children catch Saint Anthony's Fire
and misbirths plague the pure
running widdershins
with eyes glued to the steeple

and the Goodwife
... buried in the yard
was burned for black charisma
and blind incantations

Matthew approaches her headstone on the right
... departs the stone from the left
taking with him
that damp cold that puts infirm into one's bones

for frost will soon come
to those of us
who sustain our provender
through the mercy of the field


Aux Arc

ghost of Appalachian mysteries
Adirondack peaks
running from Simon on the Delta
past haunted deserts
to the land of Pixies

lo

we are travelling to Eldorado
along the Buenaventura River
where the Fairy King lords over gold
and souls are considered free

free of want
and master's whip
a plot of land
silver and ore

have you heard?
we are travelling to Eldorado


Pox

in the beginning
when dogs could talk
and children would touch bark
to feel spirits in trees

there came from among us
a small boy
whispering futures
of omens and reason

they say his mother
had never known man
and the boy could hear instruction
from elders long past

so we listened
when he told us of times ahead
where a strange creature
would appear on the plain
to carry us vast distances
places we'd never been

he said the beast was not to be feared
but the pale man
who rides on its back
holding weapons that spit fire
would be our undoing
so we rode those creatures
some called horse
in search of a leather bound book
known to be the pale man's source of power

traveling the plains
looking for its magic
until we came upon the village
of our enemy

we found nothing
but tee-pees
full of dead Comanche
their skin pocked with red marks

we knew then
that the boy
who spoke with departed shades
was a prophet of things to come

so we called him
Sweet Medicine


Volunteers

I was there ...

when the Reverend Chivington
whisky on breath
and pistol on pulpit
sermonised from the Book of Joshua

filled with Holy Spirit
we marched upon the savage camp
as they waved Old Glory
in cowardly surrender

running in terror
we drove them down
slicing flesh to save ammunition
chopping squaw and cutting papoose
tripping the elderly
saving scalps and fingers
to trade for drink
in Denver saloons

the mannish spirit
forcing my hand
to burn tee-pees
making way for rail
paved road and commerce

I was there
when the Reverend Colonel said,
"nits make lice"


The Doctor of Theology

for Roger Ailes

oh massa Ailes
why has it been forsaken
Hosanna
and her sweet rosary bead?

dadgummit
the full custom gospel
that you delivered
told us we were free

gone
was the solid sender
sweet pretender
and the "good news" deceit

for the chillin of Gabriel
heard it in a parable
while picking
in the fields of machine

why do you dance
at the misery ball?
Can you tell me
my doctor of theology?


Tecumseh

down that yonder road
beyond the plough

where rows of peach trees
line the avenue at Five Points

Cousin Bud likes good company
heard a y'alls Southern hospitality

where all are welcome to the table
('cept the negra field hand)

now Maple's got swank
Cornelius Riley can predict numbers

and the diggers who tapped into y'alls well
wear the latest trousers

but there were those men 'n' women
who wore slacks pressed to the swell

who wanted to go to Clarksville
got held up in Austell

maybe I'll drink 'shine
down in Bowlin' Green

Lake Charles to Biloxi
Cornwall to Shawnee

Athens to Nazareth
she throws her golden ball

Eris, goddess of chaos and discord
why hath thou forsaken me?
did we not vow
to see our former selves on the other side?

now the seed of wolves
churns in my blood

and the clots of clay
were formed in defiance from above

so remember past loves
whores in the saloon

who got caught up drinkin' Sterno
discarded signs of the moon

tonight I walk with darkness
tonight I walk depressed
for the Lord join in my disdain for Georgia
till I marched all the way to Memphis


Sherman

and these
will be the causes of death:

bombs shall rain
torrents of hot metal
shot from cannon
pushing the campaign
through the centre of town
leaving the street
a passage of mud
along rows of hot cinders

we will press down on you
plantation owners of slaves
for we noble souls are prepared to die

your soldiers
addicted to morphine
will be saved by our heroine
to replace legs that will not sprout
from severed stump

then agents from the north
yankee bulls
will follow the caravan
to gnaw on the carnage
like carrion birds
in camel hair jackets

for the righteous always prevail
and conquerors write history
see we both lay claim
to that felled orchard
but it is we
who hold the franchise
on the eve of these wicked days

and those beaus
who came to manhood courting
will be gunned down in their prime

'cause we all know the belles with the large curls
cradled by their mammies
curtsy in hoops to hide the fact
they's nothin' but harpies

see, you ain't right with the Lord
and like that dark angel
who hath possession o'er the death bed
my army will force you down
into that fiery ditch
where all accounts are rendered


The Hymnal of the Ghost

preacher tell me rightly
will I go to hell

I have slain my brother in battle
to the offending brigade's yell

we have seen them in the hour
with their backs to heaven's door

surely all are equal
to die before the Lord

mother tell my rightly
will the bell be rung by Christ

are we the rivals of history
is God on our side

will the truth rain down like shrapnel
to drown us in the storm

surely all are equal
when flesh falls from bone

so we hoisted up the standard
to the hymnal of the ghost

cavalry on horseback
infantry on foot

when mortar slams the hulls
of iron clad boats

surely all are equal
in the agony of war


The Confederate

in my one-hundredth year
I lived on a green hill
in West Virginia

weak in bone
with seeping spirit
I melted into the landscape

ignored as I was useless
my sallow flesh
gave way to an ashen complexion

what will I leave
a stone effigy
a lifeless reminder of what I used to be

overlooked in the folio of classic texts
scribed by literate negroes
who burned candles in Carolina shacks?

soon I will need a burial
a hole
dug by old slave hands

who plucked the grains of Zander
and share cropped his lands
in the fields of machine

a memorial
so my spirit may live on
in infamy


The Prophecy of the Coming Mannish Child

I.

and the angel came
as my ma lay bruised and beaten

whispering futures
of omens and reason

a man-child is comin to you
in two-hundred-seventy-one days – minus a night

folks buried her in potters field
as it rained ice from on high

so this is how Delilah
met ol' Jim

fleein' from the overseer
who run the cotton gin

couldn't stand
another day of abuse from his hand

some men hurt
what they cannot have

but her wish for me
was to see her mannish boy free

Lord, she ran from the plantation
Lord, she tripped in the night
Lord, she prayed like Moses
that her baby child might survive

for I was born to a dead woman
out on the tracks

as crops were burnin'
and her killer stood o'er her an spat

so the undertaker can put away his shovel
'cause I'm standin' free

for I chose to be in this body
when the parsons is preachin' that the body chose me

I'll sun myself with the lizard
shed it like the snake

spit fire till it turn to money
lure the Drubby with a witch's cake


II.

castrate the pigeon
hit on the road

lickin' the back
of the psychoactive horned toad

vermin in conflict
and the skeeters buzzin' tight

harvest moon a hauntin'
Church ... of the Toad of Light

Jim ... accept your fate
it's a bible truth

'cause you chewed the cactus
drank its juice

ate its buttons
like a rough swallowed root

now you run
from the lawman's lash

with beads of mescalito
sweatin' out your back


III.

farmer shoo'd you with a shotgun
buckshot follow you off his land

and those blood stained pants
mark you a guilty man

on good terms with the sheriff
you'll find work with a gun

but they'll find you Jimbo
hunt you as you run

so you rode your horse
till its shoe stepped on a diamond back rattle

then you was left
to carry the saddle

to the Republic of Texas
where they hand out citizenship if you're willin' to fight

hallelujah!
as you vanquish ... Iljii the Hind

now Jim ... this magic of the mountain can't save you
the Drubby only answer one wish

from Aux Arc shack
to Adirondack witch

you're soul is young
but your body won't grow old

cause they're hunting you down
for the day
Delilah
went cold


Zul Qarnain

there were three prophets in the east
four prophets in the west

their words predicted the coming
of my goat horn crown

and the enormous heap
that was their temple

shall provide the stone
for my vast wall

where archers will stand
manning pots of hot oil

collected from the pits
where it gushes forth from sands

in my domain
the Occident ... to the Levant

where murderous trolls
push my phalanx forward

and fathers bid for the rights
to my will over their daughter's bodies

I will take my pick
one ... for each mark of the rising sun

and Roxana shall be my bed-whore
when the others cannot appease my lust

for she is my property
as I have done unto them

and I will possess her
like a foreign rock

after I have laid claim to her body
I will build them a city

where the alter shall be built
four and twenty cubits

six palms and twenty digits
dimensions understood by priests

and those who worship Isis
the sacred whore

but I cannot touch her
until tribute is paid

and the golden coffers
will be carried

by slaves
marching behind my army

and their bibles that do not make sense
will be added to my collective

when my forces traipse over their fields of grain
as my generals delegate the storm

but wise men
will aid in their reconstruction

with canals to move my ships
and irrigate their crops

so their children can loiter in vast libraries
teaching their parents

and the future
will be ours

our light will shine forth from a great torch
seen for nautical miles

reaching beyond the places I have been
and I will be remembered

for the fire that burns within
will destroy this mortal body

and keep on burning
radiating from the tombs to the farthest reach

haunting the Himalayas
and the Syrian plains of Armageddon

to the rock in Plymouth
and the pueblos of California

they will rush to bow before me
for I am the vicegerent of heaven in this terrestrial hell

heavenly angel
earthly devil

I am the Kingdom

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Tender In The Age Of Fury by Brandon Pitts. Copyright © 2016 Brandon Pitts. Excerpted by permission of Mosaic Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Edition details

• Publisher: Mosaic Press
• Publication date: 2016
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 177161174X
• ISBN 13: 9781771611749
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 120